Comes and Goes in Waves
by Sereneffect
Summary: Shepard's return to Earth following the destruction of the Alpha Relay is not full of cheers and fanfares as would befit a hero, but no one seems to think of her as one anymore. No one except a marine with a chip on his shoulder. Rated for language, violence, and mature situations and implications.
1. Chapter 1

**Branching out from my usual pairing, I give you this! Replaying ME3 has reminded me that James Vega is a delicious individual and it is a crying shame he refuses to return my affections. ;^;**

**Greenyoda987 is da bomb for reading everything I send her all the time and interpreting my abuse of the English language into something readable.**

* * *

Coming back to Earth… this wasn't how Shepard had anticipated it; on an empty ship, escorted by a small fleet of what she thought were her allies, to surrender herself for war crimes. Everything she had done… and this was it. She sighed, stepping down from the galaxy map and starting toward the airlock. This was it…

"Shepard, I…"

She paused, looking into the cockpit and meeting her pilot's gaze, and forced a small smile. "I know, Joker. Keep her safe."

Joker nodded, swiveling back to the controls. "Yes, ma'am."

Shepard sighed and stepped into the airlock as the doors slid open, admitting a squad of Alliance soldiers. A young captain stepped forward, his dress blues impeccable. "Commander Shepard," he drawled, stopping in front of her, "You and your crew are to surrender yourselves into Alliance custody for your actions on Aratoht."

She squared her shoulders, hands locked behind her back. "My crew are no longer present on this ship," she replied tightly, "And they are not responsible for anything that happened concerning the Alpha Relay. What occurred there is my responsibility and mine alone." She glanced toward where Joker had risen from his chair to stand behind her, the slight twitch of his mouth the only indication he was in any sort of pain. Leg braces or no, Shepard didn't want to think about the amount of effort it had taken him to come stand behind her. After everything he'd done and been through for her and his unwavering loyalty, there was no way she was letting him take any of the responsibility. She turned her eyes back to the captain. "My pilot is to be released; he has done nothing wrong, and any attempts to detain him will not end well for you, am I clear, Captain?" Her voice was frosty by the end of her diatribe and the man raised a brow.

"And if I refuse?"

Shepard took one step forward, eyes narrowing as her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. "You know who I am, Captain, and what I'm capable of. I suggest you think _very_ clearly before you threaten a fellow Alliance soldier." She could hear the soldiers around her raise their weapons, but remained where she was. The air practically crackled and for a moment the tension was tangible.

"Very well," the captain finally huffed, "Flight Lieutenant Moreau will not be harmed, so long as he comes willingly. We only wish to debrief him."

"Not unless Shepard comes too!"

Shepard sighed. "Joker, enough. Go."

"But—"

"That's an order, Flight Lieutenant." She gave him a small smile and jerked her head toward their waiting entourage, "The _Normandy_ will make it back fine, I promise. Go." She watched as Joker grudgingly limped across the gangway, leaving her alone on her ship, facing a squad of guns facing her, the war criminal. "Alright, Captain. You can drop the act. Take me wherever it is the Alliance wants to lock me away to forget about me." She sighed, letting her stance relax, her shoulders slump, and let her arms fall limply to her sides. "Just… Don't look for my crew. And don't harm my ship."

The captain smirked. "Of course, Commander. If you don't mind?"

With a small roll of her eyes, she held out her wrists. Of course. They wanted to make a show of it—had to—to keep the Batarians off her. Or whatever. As the cuffs closed around her wrists, she was silently thankful that her crew was all star-systems away; Miranda had returned to Illium to find Oriana, Thane had remained on the Citadel with Kolyat, Grunt was back on Tuchanka, Mordin was on Sur'Kesh, Garrus had gone back to Palaven to be with his mother, Tali was back with the fleet, Jacob had hopped on a transport on Omega after Jack had opted to stay there, and Legion… Well, she didn't know where Legion went, but he was safe. They all were. _At least they're free_. And didn't have to see her chained. The soldiers led her down the gangway, out to a waiting a shuttle, and hustled her aboard, all without making eye contact with her. Not a single one could meet her gaze and she sighed, resigning herself to her fate: she was a prisoner of the military she loved, but that didn't seem love her back.

* * *

"Lieutenant Vega."

James jumped, spinning to face the Admiral as he entered and trying to salute at the same time. "Sir," he responded quickly, trying to cover his uncertainty over his new title. He had expected a reprimand after Fehl Prime, or a medical discharge for emotional and psychological trauma, or _something_, but never a promotion… not after everyone had died…

"Jane Shepard is being brought to the facility as we speak. As you are aware, she is relieved of duty and to be held here until it has been deemed safe to release her. Until such a time, you are to serve as her guard." Admiral Anderson gave the young marine a curt nod. "I trust you can handle this assignment."

Vega bristled slightly. Guard duty? They were pulling him off the front lines to babysit? And _Shepard_, of all people? Everything she'd done had made the lives he'd lost worthless. The intel he'd sacrificed them for was useless after she'd blown the Collectors to hell… And he was supposed to watch her? "Of course, Admiral. You can count on me."

"Good man, she should be—"

The door slid open and Shepard was marched in, flanked by two armed soldiers, her hands still cuffed in front of her. Without armor, Vega was surprised by how… small she was. _This_ was Commander Shepard, a juggernaut of head-butting destruction? _This _was the most elusive sniper in the galaxy? She didn't move, didn't look at either of them, instead staring blankly at the wall behind them, her expression sullen.

"Shepard, good to see you in one piece," Anderson finally greeted her, nodding for her guards to remove the shackles. As they came free, Shepard rubbed her wrists absently, but didn't reply. "I am sorry about this, Shepard, but it's the only thing we can do. The Batarians want you dead, and we have to make it look like you're in trouble."

"Aren't I?" Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and Vega found himself wondering if this was some strange joke. This _couldn't_ be Shepard, the hero who had shouted a krogan into line, who had argued Saren to suicide, who could rally any and everyone around her… Could it?

"Listen to me, Shepard, there's nothing else we could do, not without turning you over to those bastards, and I won't do it." Anderson put a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't react. "I don't like this either, but it's the only way." With a sigh, he moved toward the door. "James… Good luck."

With that, he was gone and the soldiers with him, leaving James alone with the now-silent Shepard. "Commander Shepard," he finally said, taking a step forward and snapping a salute quickly, "Lieutenant James Vega, Marines. I'm assigned to…" He trailed off and an uncomfortable silence fell over them as she swiveled her eyes up to meet his.

"Guard me," she finished for him, ignoring the hand he'd extended. "Dispense with the formality, marine, I'm sure you got the memo: I'm relieved of duty."

James blinked at her, caught off guard by the sudden bitterness in her voice; he was supposed to hate _her_, not the other way around. She had made his mission—his squad's deaths—useless, he had every reason to be resentful of her, yet he felt as though their roles were reversed. But she didn't need to know that. If she didn't know now, there was no reason to tell her. They were just two soldiers. Well, he was a soldier, and she was a damn icon. "You're still a hero as far as I can tell, ma'am," he finally replied, "You did the right thing."

Yet instead of smiling and agreeing as he'd expected, she scoffed, stepping around him to wander around the living space. "Did I?" she mused, only vaguely addressing him, "Joined Cerberus, destroyed a relay, butchered a colony… I don't _feel_ like a hero, Lieutenant." With a small sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed and set her head in her hands.

James was all kinds of confused; he'd seen the vids, the speeches, all of her awards… He'd never expected someone like her—a hero—to be so worn and jaded. He remembered how his buddies in basic had idolized her, and talked in reverent tones about what she had done lately, or how they would be as famous as _Shepard_. Had he been so star-struck that he'd forgotten there was a person—another human being—behind the name and reputation?

It must have showed in his face, because she scowled when she looked up again. "Look, Vega, this will be a lot easier if you don't try to make me feel better about this. I've got to live with what I've done and what I know."

"I…" He took a breath and knotted his hands behind his back. "Understood, Commander."

"And stop that, I'm not a commander anymore."

"Of course, Co— ma'am."

* * *

The sky was grey outside her window as Shepard watched the transports gliding by. Maybe it would rain… It would be strange to sit through a rainstorm… How long had it been since she had sat and watched the rain… More than five years… Starships had been her home as long as she cared to remember. And most of that had been spent running around saving the known universe. Maker, she'd done so much in so little time… She was a young officer, no one important until she had been assigned to the _Normandy_. And even then, no one would have known her name if Saren hadn't lost his mind. The geth had made her famous, and Sovereign had made her infamous. Everything she had seen—in the Cipher, and in her visions—had her terrified that the Reapers were on their way; she couldn't question that they were real, yet who would believe her? She'd died trying to make someone listen. And when she had been miraculously raised from the dead, it was her enemies that offered their aid. She had allied with the devil to take down a greater evil: the Collectors. Protheans… And with Harbinger at their helm. She could still hear its disembodied voice echoing in her brain. Even on Aratoht, its artificial voice had found her, taunted her… told her to give up. And now, an entire colony was dead, and she was locked up. But she knew the Reapers were real. She knew they were coming. And she desperately wanted to save the galaxy that had somehow come to rely on her, yet no one wanted to believe that the threat was real, and knocking on their door.

She hated being right.

The clouds darkened, and she could hear the distant rolls of thunder as the curtain of pounding rain made its steady journey across the cityscape. She wondered if she would see the lightning.

She heard the slide of the mechanisms before the doors had fully opened and spun, raising her hands on instinct. James stopped just inside the doorway and lifted his hands hesitantly.

"Easy, I just wanted to check on you," he said carefully as she slowly relaxed her stance.

"Right… of course." She had almost forgotten about him. Being guarded, under constant watch, was so weird for her… She had spent so long being autonomous that having someone over her shoulder made her uneasy.

"It's been 3 days, ma'am, and you're still stir crazy?"

He was trying to make a joke, but she just shrugged, turning back to the window. "You get used to a certain lifestyle on the frontline," she replied with a bemused smile, "A lot fewer bullets flying my way down here."

James's brows furrowed as he moved further into the room. "Fewer?" he asked incredulously, "Don't you mean 'none'?" The whole reason she had been brought to the Alliance on Earth was to keep her alive until the scandal around her return had died down. No one outside the committee knew she was there.

Shepard didn't turn or face him, instead stepping to one side to reveal three spider-webbed divets in the glass she had been standing in front of. James's mouth fell open as he went to examine the marks, a flabbergasted expression on his face. "Guy was screaming in the courtyard about Cerberus scum and betrayal… Can't even say I blame him," she replied blandly.

"_Dios, chica… _Why didn't you say some _pendejo_ was here with a gun?!" he burst out as he eyed the bullet marks.

Shepard's expression darkened and she turned and stalked a few steps away from him. "No reason to. Why does it matter what happens to me? I'm discharged and locked up _for life_, remember?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's to protect you from the _Batarians_," he sighed, getting to his feet, "It's for your own good."

That made Shepard scoff as she stared through the locked door. "Right, and the interrogations—sorry, _debriefings_—are for what, my entertainment?!" Her jaw began to ache from how tightly she'd clenched it and she could feel her heart beginning to race. "I know why I'm here, Lieutenant, and don't pretend I don't: the Alliance doesn't trust me. They don't believe me, but they don't want to hand me over because then they would have to admit I knew what I was doing, that I wasn't—" She stopped and took a long breath, her eyes falling closed. "—that I'm not crazy."

For a moment, Vega only stared at her as she raked both hands through her hair to hide the way they shook. She was slowly losing it, and he could see her control beginning to fray at the seams. Her mirthless laugh cut at him as she turned back to the window.

"Don't pretend to be my friend, Vega," she informed him tightly, "I know my jailer when I see him."

Vega was gobsmacked, but nothing he could say would make her feel differently. And did he really think otherwise? If not for her, his mission would have been worth something, but now… Now it was just a failure. Without replying, he showed himself out, letting the door close behind him. Yet he didn't immediately leave, leaning back against the empty hallway. _This _was humanity's greatest hero? _She_ had stopped Saren and the geth? _She _had destroyed the Collectors? How? How could someone so downtrodden have done all of those great things? How could someone like _that_ be a beacon of hope? What about the speeches? The talk of never giving up and standing together? He had seen the vids, he had seen her greatness growing. She was the ideal, everything any soldier ever strived to be. Yet that wasn't the woman he saw in that room. What could have happened to make her the way she was?

Even if he was a jarhead marine, he counted himself as being pretty observant, but it still confused him. The idea he had of Shepard in his head couldn't justify the possibility that she would be so hateful and cold with the memory he had of her speech at her award ceremony extolling cooperation and understanding, teamwork in the face of adversity. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was a convenient target for her anger—he was just convenient—yet it didn't change the feeling of betrayal. She was supposed to be all of the best qualities of humanity… Surely something would bring that out in her?

* * *

The wall was cold against her back and she pushed away from it, pacing across the floor until she was toe to toe with the opposite wall. Now the chill seeped through the front of her clothing and she turned her back. Shepard had spent days pacing across the room she was kept in; in fact, she now knew that the room was exactly 25 paces long and 15 wide. Which, if her calculations were right, meant that it was 10 meters by 6. Which was larger than her cabin on the _Normandy_, but who would be keeping track of that? Not her. Definitely not her…

She really wanted to shoot something… Anything to keep herself busy. She was running out of ways to occupy her time…

Three sharp knocks broke into her thoughts and she turned her head sharply to stare at the door. "Enter."

Vega. Of course. "Co—Ma'am, I uh…" He stopped just inside the door and she almost laughed. It had been almost a week and he was still as awkward as a boy on his first date. So much for being a terrifying marine. "I know they prohibited communication, but…"

Shepard's eyes widened as he pulled a stack of tightly folded papers from behind his back. What were those? He managed a small, uncertain smile as he held them out.

"Don't tell anyone?" he asked sheepishly. Yet his smile didn't go away and she quickly snatched the papers up, hastily unfolding the first one. From Jack. Were they all from her crew?

"How?" she finally managed, her expression lighting up. "I mean, thank you, but… How? And… Why?" Her eyes flew over the uneven scribbles and she held down the urge to laugh. The biotic was taunting her for wanting to go back the Alliance… _I see that worked out well for you_. Typical Jack… And yet, there was a hint of sadness behind it. _I bet you still love that bullshit military after all of this… You know they won't let you out, right? What then? What about the rest of us?_ Oh Jack… She was probably lonely… Shepard felt her heart sink and wished fervently that she was back on her ship with her crew. As terrifying as it was, she liked badass, argumentative Jack a lot more than sad, speculative Jack. It just wasn't right.

"I… well, you looked a little down and I knew they'd want to get in touch with you… You mean a lot to them." There was a shadow of a sad smile on her face and he knew that it was true. When she looked back up at him he held up his hands. "I can't take anything from you to them, but—"

Shepard cut him off by throwing her arms around his middle in a spontaneous hug; apparently her isolation had affected her more than she had realized if she was giving in to random acts of contact. But, hell, there weren't even regs against hugging her "guard" to her knowledge… there were _no tiers of command_ for her to blur. Still, she was surprised at herself for her sudden lack of poise; thankfully, the bulky marine didn't seem too aghast—he at least didn't push her away. And though James couldn't see her face, he could feel the tremor in her body; best not to comment on the fact that she was crying.

"Thank you," she finally said, still hugging him, "I appreciate it."

That made him smile and he tried to return her hug as casually as possible. "Don't mention it."

A lifeline… He'd given her a lifeline. And if she was lucky, it would keep her going until the Alliance decided what would happen to her. And if not… Well, it was a nice thought either way.

* * *

Three weeks of what amounted to briefly interrupted solitary confinement and Shepard had finally cracked and begged Vega to talk to the committee. She _needed_ to get out of that room, even if it was only for a little while. _Anything_ to break the monotony of staring out that window… The committee, of course, was not as convinced as Vega or Anderson of her dependability. What if she ran? Psh, like that was an option… She was a fugitive being hunted for war crimes by a militant race that—however rightly—blamed her for the destruction of a colony. But the implication still hurt. She wasn't going to _run_; she'd turned herself in, or had they forgotten that? Yet when Vega had returned and told her that the committee had agreed to permit her to go outside for an hour once a week, she couldn't even bring herself to be angry. Fresh air would be worth their skepticism.

Now, she hung from the pull up bar she'd set up by her knees, arms crossed over her chest as she completed the inverted sit ups. The idea of falling out of shape scared her more than being hunted by the Batarians, and James had laughed when he'd seen her doing PT in the small room. But he didn't question. She was grateful for that. After Kenson had stolen her armor and weapons… No one could take her body from her, and that she could make a weapon.

James walked in and she let her back straighten to watch as he looked for her. For a moment, she said nothing, watching upside down as he wandered around the small space. When he did see her, he raised a brow in a silent question, but thought better of it. He gestured for her to come down and she scoffed, but complied.

"Ready for your allotted time outside?" he asked with no traces of humor. Some days, she liked to think he was on her side, but others… Others he seemed to resent her as much as they both resented the situation. It didn't bother her—she resented him half of the time—but it did intrigue her. He looked capable enough; why was he stuck keeping guard on her?

"Yeah, let's go. I need real air," she replied quickly, starting toward the door, but he grabbed her arm to stop her.

"It's just an hour, Shepard, and I have to stay with you. I know you won't but… Just don't try anything."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "And go where, Vega? My ship was my home and they took that. My friends are all too far away and not allowed to communicate with me. Now, can we go? I want to go for a run."

The air that greeted them as they stepped into the training yard was damp and cool, yet Shepard inhaled deeply and let out a happy sigh, rolling her shoulders back. The chill settled over the skin exposed by her sports bra, yet she didn't mind. It was better than the chill of her prison. James watched skeptically as she took few steps into the yard, but relaxed slightly when she settled down to stretch. He didn't want to chase her down, and he didn't want to think that—after everything she'd done, the honor she supposedly had, and then turning herself in—she would try to run. At least they had that in common.

"You better keep up, Vega," she informed him cheekily, smiling for the first time in what he was sure was months for her. It was the first time he'd seen her happy. Or, at least relatively so. He liked the way she smiled, just a confident, one-sided smirk that lit up her eyes.

"Oh, I can keep up, ma'am."

"We'll see about that, Marine," she teased, giving her shoulders one last roll before nodding toward the oblong track. "Ready?" When he nodded, she quickly swept her hair up into a haphazard knot at the back of her head and took off.

Her strides were long, but lighter and much more graceful than his own and, though James found he could keep up with her brisk pace, he felt some envy at how effortless it seemed to be for her. For a few moments, they ran in silence, the only sound between them being their boots hitting the ground.

"So," Shepard finally said, blowing a few errant strands of hair from her eyes, "What made them decide to make you my ball and chain?"

For a moment, James wondered if he should be insulted, or agree. He would be lying if he said he wouldn't prefer to be facing real action… He was a frontline soldier, not a politician. "A mission went bad," he admitted tightly, "I had to take command and ended up losing a whole lot of people." Better to keep it short and sweet. He didn't like talking about the details. It just… it just made it all too real. He always caught himself expecting Captain Toni to call him and yell at him for being a bastard or something… Damn. "The Alliance gave me a medal for fulfilling my objective, promoted me, and told me to keep an eye on you."

Shepard grimaced. He was young—a lot younger than she, even with her two lost years—and having a mission go south that early was rough. She still had nightmares about Akuze. "Sorry. I know what it feels like to be sidelined."

That made James scoff. "No you don't," he replied between heavy breaths. "You're Commander Shepard, A Spectre and a hero. You're the soldier the Alliance wants everyone to be."

Shepard shook her head, shaking more of her hair loose from the where she had pulled it back. "You so sure about that?" she asked, nodding toward the side of the yard where they were covering her poster. "The Alliance needs You!" it had read in bold letters below a picture of Shepard, standing tall and saluting in pristine N7 armor. It was more than half covered now. "I make their lives difficult because they don't want to hear what's going to happen. But I won't stop telling them, and they won't listen. It's a lot easier to lock a problem away than confront it."

James seemed to consider that as they began to slow. "So you're absolutely sure about the Reapers? They're not just a myth?"

Shepard chuckled darkly as she stopped and began to stretch again. Her hip made a pleasant popping sound and she sighed contentedly; somewhere between her old wounds and being resurrected, her body had stopped taking punishment as well as it once had. "I've seen what they did to the Protheans," she finally said, "to the colonists… I've seen them take over a person's mind, _felt_ it feeling around in my head…" She shook her head and sighed, brushing the sweat-soaked strands of her hair off of her forehead. "I couldn't invent something like the Reapers, no one could. I can't make them see it, but I can scream until they listen."

* * *

**There's more to come, but let me know what you think so far!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I really really love writing this x3 Thanks for everyone who's given feedback!**

**As always, I have to point out that I have the best beta in the entire universe. Everyone else should be jealous =P**

* * *

2 months, 5 days, 4 hours, and 37 minutes since they had locked her in there... But who was counting, right? Not Shepard, _definitely_ not Shepard... Her fingers drummed against her bicep as she leaned her shoulder against the glass, betraying just how much of a lie that was as the sun began its slow descent below the horizon. It was almost cruel to put her in a room that had such a beautiful view... All the things she could see but never touch, or witness on the outside... Wisps of clouds hung around the setting sun and she watched as they turned steadily darker with the sky until there was nothing left but the darkness of dusk. It would be another hour still until the moon rose, and the clouds covered some of the few stars striving to be seen. She longed to be up among those stars... Space was her home, the stars her natural environment... She would never say it, but it made her homesick to be planet-bound. It was lonely, not to be on a ship, with her crew... with her friends...

Three knocks pierced through the silence and she looked toward the door as James let himself in. "Hey, Shepard, I got dinner. Nothing much, but hey, they try, am I right?" He had made it halfway to her small table and chairs before looking up at her, and her melancholy expression made him pause. "Shepard?"

"That's... great, James. Thanks." She forced a small smile and let her arms drop to her sides as she straightened her stance. "You've got to have something better to do than sit and eat with me, Marine. I'm not exactly good company."

James set the bundles and flatware on the table without looking at her for a moment. It was true, he _did_ have better things to do: his buddies wanted to go get drinks, his dress blues needed a good press and polish, and there was a _smoking_ new recruit down in requisitions that kept making eyes at him, but... He felt... _bad_ thinking about doing all of those things, knowing that he'd come back, Shepard would ask him how it went, and then force a fake smile when she told him how great that was, or commented on how much fun it must have been. He'd done it once-an old buddy from basic was on leave and they'd taken a night to catch up and wreak havoc-and she had looked so sad, even as she laughed and smiled through his story... She didn't get to do anything like that now. She was trapped in this room until the Alliance decided to release her. _If_ they decided to release her... And he was the only person she had to talk to-really _talk _to, like normal people. Yeah, he had better things to do, but he couldn't justify going and doing them. He liked Shepard, no matter how much he blamed her for what had happened to his squad. And it wasn't fair for him to rub salt in a wound that refused to heal. In the back of his mind, he considered it penance for a bad call. _Sit and keep her company, it's the least you owe your men._

"No, ma'am. Nothing at all."

Shepard's forehead creased between her brows a she studied him before shaking her head. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you." She stepped down from the edge of the window to join him at the table and threw herself into one of the molded plastic seats. "So, what did they butcher this time?"

James smirked and peeled the lids off the styrofoam containers, steam drifting off of each one. "Homemade chicken parmesan, they claim. 20 creds says it's all pre-packed, reheated rations with a little fake cheese," he snorted, doling out a healthy serving onto each plate.

Regardless, Shepard immediately started wolfing it down. "Food is food," she informed him between bites, "They'd have to really _try_ to make it inedible."

James scoffed, but ate nonetheless. "That's right, you lived off this stuff for your entire life. Spacer brat, am I right?"

Shepard smiled sadly, but nodded. "Yeah. Lived on warships with my mom as long as I could remember. Being planetside so long is... weird."

"You miss it?"

She nodded, swirling the last bit of pasta around her plate. "Wouldn't you? The engines under your feet, the entire universe just outside, the people..."

"_Your _people."

"Guilty. Yeah, my people. I'm sure they're fine, but..." She worried her lip for a second before she continued, "I know the Committee doesn't believe me-it's a lost cause trying to make them-but I don't know how much longer we can wait before... Before the Reapers finally invade." When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. "I didn't stop them either time I've faced them, just slowed them down. They're _going_ to come after us eventually, and I want my people-my friends, my crew-with me when they do."

"So they can help you stop them?" James pushed his empty plate away as Shepard shook her head.

"So I can keep them safe." She gave him a sad smile before looking back down at the table. "The last thing I want is for the Reapers to take any more of my friends..."

Williams... Shit, that was right, she'd had to leave her on Virmire. James knotted his hands, trying to think of something to say. "She was a good soldier." _Say something stupider, you jar-headed jackass!_

But she just nodded. "Yeah, she was... She did what needed to be done, but..." She let the statement trail off, but James knew what she meant. But, she still wished she had been able to save her. But, she didn't deserve that. But, she was one of hers, and it was her fault she was gone.

For a minute, neither said anything-Shepard staring at the table and James trying to find something in the room to look at. Finally, he stood and began gathering their dishes up again. "Well, I... I should..."

"Yeah. Thanks for dinner, Lieutenant," Shepard said, getting to her feet as well.

For a second he considered staying, but as they both stood there-Shepard watching him, and James standing there holding a bag of dirty dishes-he couldn't come up with reasonable excuse and nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

Shepard chuckled, crossing her arms loosely over her stomach and settling into her hip. "I see you every day, at the exact same times. You don't need to warn me anymore, James." Her lips had pulled into her genuine, one-sided smile and James couldn't stop himself from returning it. Her eyes sparkled behind the fringe of her hair as he stumbled for a reply until he settled for nodding.

"Right, I'll just... I should... I'll see you tomorrow." He left before he could make more of a fool of himself and Shepard watched him go with a mix of amusement and confusion. James tossed the bag of trash down one of the garbage chutes and smacked a hand against his forehead. _Smooth, Vega, real smooth. She'll definitely think you're a capable soldier now._

Maybe that _chica_ in requisitions was still around...

Shepard stared at the door for a second before going back to the window. A few brave stars twinkled through the clouds and the moon had finally risen off in the distance, glowing from behind the skyscrapers of the city. Their spires were stark black against the white disk and she absently wondered if the wreckage from the rogue VI had ever been cleared from Luna's barren surface.

She would be alone with her thoughts until James returned in the morning-if she was very lucky, she might catch an hour of sleep-so she lifted her omnitool and opened the audio-log.

"Capt-" She sighed and tried again. "Shepard's log. The Committee hasn't called me in to parade me around like a spectacle in a while. Guess they've finally written me off as 'batshit insane' once and for all. I'd be angrier if it wasn't so far-fetched, but..." Her brow furrowed and she scowled. "Scratch that, I _am _pissed off." She paced across the window, still talking into the glowing interface. "No one believed me about Saren, and thousands died. _Ashley_ died. I'll never forgive myself for that, and it should be _them_ feeling guilty, not me! I did _everything right_, and they treated me like a pariah! They didn't believe me about the Collectors, and dozens of human colonies were turned into genetic paste to make a human-embryo proto-Reaper!" She was shouting now, but she didn't care. It felt good to finally let all of it out. She never complained, never questioned her orders, but now... She was relieved of duty, what _else_ could they _possibly _do to her? "Hackett sent me to Aratoht to investigate when Kenson went silent, and I did. I investigated and found an indoctrinated science team bent on helping the Reapers invade faster, and I stopped them! I stopped them and bought us more time to prepare! I saved _all_ of their asses!" She stopped pacing, her hands shaking as she tried to take deep breaths. "I don't know how long I can keep telling them the same things over and over again. I've seen what the Reapers are capable of, _felt_ it in my brain... What else can I tell them to make them see that? I can't... I can't give up, but it's just not working." She smiled sadly and looked out the window again, the moon finally free of the city. "Jack would tell me to _make_ them listen, smash some heads to show them I'm not fucking around." She laughed quietly. "Samara would tell me to be patient, that they'll listen they're ready, but what if they're _never_ ready? And Joker... Hell, he'd say screw them and help me steal a ship. If I knew where he was... It's funny, Vega got me notes from a lot of people-not everyone, but enough-but not Joker. I thought they'd keep him here, too. An accessory, or something, to my deplorable crimes. But I haven't heard anything about him." She swallowed thickly. "I hope he's ok. I hope they're all ok." With a sigh, she crossed the room to her bed and fell backward onto it. "I miss them all." She chuckled. "They'd probably like James. He's a good kid, good Marine, but... Something's bothering him, I can tell. I've seen that look before, on Elysium. He won't say a lot about it-just the bare minimum-but there's more than what he's telling me. Garrus had that look too, on the Citadel when we went after Sidonis..." She trailed off and sighed. "He blames himself, but it's more than that, I can tell." A hard, cold laugh escaped her. "This is pathetic, I'm so bored, I'm psychoanalyzing my keeper. There's probably nothing to it." Another pause. "He'll be back in the morning. Maybe I'll ask him about it again, see if he won't tell me something. Could turn it into a game."

* * *

James forced himself to smile as Private Marks downed the fourth shot of tequila. He kept telling himself she was pretty-smoking hot, more like-and fun enough for one night, but every time she laughed, or pressed herself against him, or acted enrapt as she listened to his stories, he just couldn't help but feel... bored. Marks snuggled up to him again as he took his shot, wrapping her arms around his torso while she purred something in his ear. But as the alcohol burned pleasantly down his throat, he found it harder and harder to listen. Her voice was high-pitched and grating as she clung to him, and the sickly-sweet perfume that rolled off her in choking waves was beginning to make him nauseous.

"Listen, _chica_," he started, trying to hide the fact that he'd forgotten her first name, "It's been fun, but I got duty early tomorrow, so I should call it a night."

"Duty? Aren't you guarding Shepard?" the girl asked, blinking up at him. He _should _have been reduced to an incoherent mess the way her eyes always looked like she was always smiling, framed by thick long lashes, the flawless line of her cheekbones, and the way her uniform hugged every part of her _just_ right. And yet none of that could make him want to stay there. For some reason...

"Commander Shepard," he corrected automatically. No matter the fact that he didn't call her that-often-he still thought of her as a commander. He respected her that much.

"Whatever. But why do you have to go then? She's not going anywhere. Come on... I'll make it worth your while." Her catlike grin made him want to grimace, and he covered it with another shot. That was the _last_ thing he wanted.

"Tempting, _chica_, but orders is orders." He pushed away from the bar and carefully disentangled himself. He could see that she was heartbroken and immediately felt awful. _Nice work, asshole._ "Listen, you're a pretty girl," he finally said as he paid the tab, "You can do better than a scarred up Lieutenant with a crap posting. Like those guys over there." He jerked his head toward a group of pilots who had been laughing and carrying on all night. "They're better company than me and they'll be more than happy to have a lovely lady with them, aye?" He kissed her cheek and gave her a roguish grin. "You're just too much for me."

That finally made her smile and she shook her head. "Yes, sir."

As she left him, James felt like he should have been upset with himself for blowing the date and sending her off to someone else, but he could only feel relieved. Marks wasn't stupid, but she was just... dull. The spark wasn't there; in her or in him, he couldn't tell, but the conversations were just boring and pointless. He craved the magnetism and genuine pleasure he got from stimulating interpersonal contact, like he got with... With Shepard...

He swore, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk he'd been walking down. Yeah, he liked her-it was hard not to-but nothing like that. She was... Well, Shepard. As far as he knew, she was an asexual entity, comprised only of good, and justice, and honor, and... nothing remotely sexual. He couldn't think of her like _that_, she had been his idol. She wasn't even his type, all muscle and angles... He'd never really been big on redheads either, and the scars were still... off-putting, at best. Her eyes were pretty though... _Stop it, stop it, stop it. _It was nothing like that, he just... liked her company. He wouldn't mind being her friend.

"I know my jailor when I see him," she'd said, but the crooked smile and the relaxed posture when she teased him about seeing him every day... It wouldn't hurt to be friendly. The path he walked only wavered a little as he started walking again. There had to be a liquor store around somewhere...

* * *

Uneven, unsteady knocking drew Shepard out of her stupor of staring at the ceiling and she sat up, propping herself on her elbows as she stared at the door in confusion. Who could possibly be at her door?

"Come in?"

James stepped through on unsteady feet and gave her a lopsided grin. "Drink with me?" he asked, holding up a bottle of tequila. After a second, his grin turned into a look of confusion. "Did I wake you up?"

Shepard snorted, gesturing to her fatigues and boots. "Do I look like someone who's going to bed, Vega?" she asked as she swung her legs over the side and stood.

"Fair enough. So, drink with me?" He rummaged around a cabinet until he found glasses, setting them down triumphantly on the table.

Shepard could only shake her head and laugh. "Alright, sure, why not. But I have questions." She sat opposite him as he filled the glasses.

He didn't even have the capacity or fortitude to argue with her, so he didn't try, instead flopping into the opposite chair. "Alright, sure. First question." He lifted his glass and drank, draining half of the alcohol before setting it down.

Shepard smirked and took a long sip, humming her appreciation as she swallowed it down. "First question: are you going to get in trouble for bringing me alcohol?" When he only shrugged, she laughed. "Ok, second question: how much did you have before you came back?"

He grimaced. "A bit... More like a lot. A few shots." He shrugged and finished his glass before refilling it.

"Mmm. Next question: what were you doing before you decided to come back here and drink with me?" She finished her glass and he quickly refilled it for her. Already, her fingers and stomach felt warm and she savored the feeling. Damn, she hadn't had a good drink in a while.

"Trying unsuccessfully to be an interesting date." When she raised a brow he elaborated, "I asked a girl out-pretty new recruit down in requisitions-and realized that I wouldn't be interested in her no matter how much I drank. Too naive, I guess. No sense of what's at stake, or whatever. That, and her voice just..." He grimaced and gestured like nails on a chalkboard, making Shepard guffaw. "No amount of perfect curves can fix that."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "I admire your perseverance," she replied dryly, taking another long sip. "So what, she's too green for you, Vega?" she teased, "That jaded?"

James snorted and drank. "I guess. Never bothered me before, but that's life." He wouldn't admit he'd rather talk with her than take the pretty young lady up to his room for some... exercise. He just wanted to be her friend. "Figured if anyone should be having a good time, it should be you, and since you're stuck here..."

"You brought the party to me. In a bottle," she finished for him. They clinked their glasses together and drank, but Shepard watched him over the rim. Part of her couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't some ploy to make her say that the Reaper threat was imaginary, that she'd made it up... But another part was glad for the companionship, and that part-the lonely part-won out. "Alright, you answered my questions. Now what?"

"You answer mine?" he supplied, his words beginning to slur a little. Even as he said it, it didn't sound completely confident, but he pressed on anyway, "Were you and Alenko really an item?"

Shepard burst out laughing, trying to wipe the spilt tequila from her chin. "What? No, no! Never!" The alcohol made her bold, and the ache of loneliness numb. "That was just a rumor. He was nice, sure, and not too shy about what he wanted but..." She grimaced. "He was more like a puppy. A very capable puppy, but a puppy."

"And the asari? Doctor... _Dios_, what's her name... T'Soni!"

Shepard's smile softened. "Liara's like a little sister. I love her, but nothing like that."

James chuckled. "Hear she's got some claws on her now. Some kind of big time information broker, or something?"

Shepard drained her glass again, then leaned forward as James refilled it. "Can you keep a secret?" she whispered, glancing to both sides. At his wide-eyed nod, Shepard grinned. "I hear she's the Shadow Broker."

"Bull shit!"

"Never! I even helped her take down the old one," Shepard added proudly, sitting back and crossing her arms. "Can't use her networks here, but I'm sure she could dig up some information on you if I asked." Her eyes sparkled with mischief and James held up his hands.

"Aye, don't do that. Some of that stuff is meant to stay buried, ya know?"

Shepard chuckled. "Oh, I know. There's a lot she knows that I never expected to find out." Her expression fell and she looked down at her knees. "Like the fact that the Alliance wanted to arrest me for treason, when they heard I was back. Not find me, not ask me anything, or be glad that I was alive; arrest me. Hackett denied the order, but still..."

"It hurt."

Shepard's smile was pained. "Yeah, still does. None of them bothered to look for me. But the Collectors did. Cerberus did. Even the Shadow Broker did." She didn't know why she was telling him anything, but it felt good to talk about it. "All they had to do was send a patrol to the _Normandy_'s last signal, or Alchera, but they couldn't even do that... Just called us all lost and forgot. Redacted everything I said about the Reapers, about Sovereign and the geth, and Saren... It was like it had never happened, and they wanted to arrest me so it could stay that way." A cold laugh escaped her as she lifted her glass again. "Guess they got what they wanted. I'm locked up, with no one to listen to me, and no crew to back me up with evidence."

As she drained another glass, James turned his in his hands. "I believed you, y'know. About Saren and all that. After Sovereign attacked the Citadel, Saren's old ops' reports came up. He was a bad dude, no question, but there was something _wrong_. I guess he was indoctrinated, and I believe it. Nothing else makes sense. And everything else... It has to be. The Reapers, I mean. What else? This is bigger than us, and the turians, the asari, everybody."

Shepard smiled softly. "Thanks, but it doesn't change that they won't believe me. And I need _them_ to believe me to keep the rest of us safe."

James frowned. That had always made him wonder... "Why do you have to be the one to do it? I mean, why do you gotta save everybody? Why not leave it to someone else?"

"Because no one else will do it." She sat back, letting her head fall back and closed her eyes. "A normal person would be content to ignore it or explain it away rather than face what it means. Yeah, my crew believe me, and some other people believe me, but who wants the burden of being the one to tell the universe that everything _isn't _ok?" She laughed quietly. "I've seen what the Reapers are capable of, what they want, what they're planning... I _have_ to stop it, James, or we lose everything." She looked back across the table at him. "I can't expect anyone else to want this burden, but I can expect myself to bear it. I don't have anything else, y'know?" Her smirk was crooked and melancholy. "I don't have as much to lose if everything goes sideways, so why _not_ me?"

James set down his now empty glass, feeling the room starting to spin. He shouldn't have had so much at the bar... "C'mon, you don't expect me to believe you don't have some guy waiting for you at the end of every mission," he joked, trying to lighten the suddenly dour mood, but she shook her head.

"It's a she, and her name is _Normandy_. She's the closest thing I've had to a home in a long time," Shepard confessed sadly, covertly snatching the bottle to refill her empty glass.

James nodded, but inside, he felt like a villain. They'd taken her out of her home and forced her into an unfamiliar, and almost hostile, environment. From what he'd gathered, she'd dispersed her crew in an effort to keep them safe before she had turned herself in, and he could only imagine how hard that had been. "I'm sorry," he found himself saying before he could stop it, but she shook her head.

"I don't mind being alone, Vega. I don't need someone warming my bed and fawning over me," Shepard laughed, "And it makes everything a lot less messy when I have to leave again." She seemed so sure, so why didn't he believe her? Why didn't the look in her eye agree with her words?

That wasn't what he was sorry for, but he left that thread of conversation lie. "If you say so, Shepard. I kind of like the bed warming part, if you know what I mean." He waggled his brows at her and she snorted.

"I'm sure, Lieutenant. So tell me about this hottie you took out and let go," she demanded, leaning her elbows onto the table. Her smile widened at his pained expression. "Oh come on, you said she was pretty!"

"And she was, just... You don't wanna talk about something else?" He didn't want to describe Marks to her. It seemed so juvenile, and she was so... sophisticated? Mature? _Impressive?_ He ignored that thought.

Shepard shook her head. "We've talked about everything else of interest, Vega. Unless you want to tell me how you lost your virginity, you can tell me about your date."

For a second, he could only gape at her, and his expression only served to make her laugh. "Aye, alright, alright. She was just assigned, straight out of basic. Lived on one of the more central colonies until she grew up, joined the Alliance to piss Daddy off, and here she is."

"So what's she look like?" Shepard didn't know why she was curious, but any conversation was better than the vacuous depression of being left alone with her thoughts. In reality, she couldn't care less about this Private, but it was something to talk about and she would take that over nothing.

James looked down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid distractedly. "You know, cute…"

"Vega. We're both adults here—barely, in your case—but come on!"

"Alright, alright. Dark brunette, cut short. Big blue eyes, really, really pretty when she smiles. Kinda short… I mean, compared to you or me, you know?"

Shepard nodded, absently twirling the end of her ponytail between her fingers. Yeah, she had to admit, she shared none of those qualities. But she didn't care, right? Of course not! Why would she care? Absently, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling the small angle where she had broken it. This pretty little private was probably still perfectly unscarred too…

"Perfect skin, too, just enough of a tan. And the way she fits a uniform?" He made a noise in the back of his throat and Shepard rolled her eyes. "Criminal, I tell you. That body belongs on a runway, not a soldier."

Of course she was built like a supermodel… _I am _not _jealous,_ Shepard told herself over and over as she leaned back in her chair. "Just couldn't make it happen, Vega?" she tried to joke. It came out sounding tighter and harsher than she'd meant, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Ah, nah. Just… not interested, I guess. I should have been, but…" He shrugged. "Guess she wasn't my type after all."

Shepard snorted. "Your type usually stacked and gorgeous?"

"Oh, definitely. The _chicas_ love a man in uniform. I'm sure _los hombres_ do too, aye Commander?"

She laughed in spite of herself, but didn't bother denying it. "You're not supposed to call me that, James."

"But I'm still gonna," he replied with a cheeky grin that had her shaking her head. He had to admit, it was a lot more fun just to talk to Shepard than drinking with Marks had been.

Shepard finished her drink and smiled. Insolent he might be, but the kid was growing on her fast. _Wouldn't have minded having him on my ship._

* * *

**Lemme know what you guys think so far!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I have emerged from the icy tundra and recovered my electricity to bring you this!**

**As usual, I have the absolute best beta ever, and I would probably never get anything done without her. So a round of applause for Greenyoda987!**

* * *

Shrill, rhythmic trills roused Shepard, startling her into sitting up, her eyes flying around the room as she gasped. Just a dream… She cradled her head in her hands, panting as she willed her heart to slow. Just a dream again… The trills started up again and she started, staring blankly at her wrist as the orange interface of her omnitool blinked to life insistently. An alarm… An alarm? She never set alarms… She never slept long enough to need one. Groggily, she flicked the screen on, rubbing her eyes on the back of her hand.

"Hey, Shepard, heads up. I'm headed your way, the Committee wants to see you, so dress nice."

Of fucking course… With a groan, she threw herself out of bed. "Right, yeah… I'll be here, you know… waiting." Her mouth felt fuzzy and she grimaced, shuffling into the adjoining bathroom.

"You just gettin' up, Commander?" She could hear the thinly masked amusement in his voice and snorted.

"Don't call me that," she replied automatically, "And for your information, yes. Now I need to shower." Before he could answer, she ended the call and flipped the water on. As steam began to rise, she shimmied out of her clothes and stepped in, sighing gratefully. But she didn't have the luxury of time, and soon it was back out into the world, sliding into the comfortable blues of a military that didn't love her back. She swept her hair up into a pony tail and paused in front of the picture window dominating her wall. Heavy grey clouds hung in the sky, yet the air was still mercifully free of rain. A boy ran about the greens below, a model fighter in his fist; a melancholy smile pulled at Shepard's lip and she gave a small shake of her head.

Three raps brought her attention back within her prison and she glanced back at the door. "It's open."

The door opened cautiously and James stepped in. "Commander," he said quickly, snapping a salute before she could stop him.

"James…"

He grinned insolently as she stepped away from the window. "I know, I know. Not supposed to call you that."

"Or salute me," she added, facing him and crossing her arms over her stomach. It had become a game between them, almost: he'd salute, she'd tell him not to, he'd ignore her, they'd laugh and move on.

"Well, we gotta go. Committee and all that."

With a nod, Shepard followed, trotting to keep up with his long strides through the halls. It was nice that they trusted her enough not to restrain her—it _had_ been months—but it didn't stop the looks of reservation and mistrust she got from the people she passed. She bit the inside of her cheek and kept close to James as they ducked around a corner. And there, pushing through the crowd was a face she hadn't even known she wanted to see again.

"Anderson." She'd said it without thinking and James stopped to salute the admiral. Without hesitation, the older man shook her hand and nodded for them to follow. "What's going on?" Shepard asked, nodding toward the scrambling crowd around them.

Anderson stopped, fixing her with a steady look. "We've lost contact with some of our long-range outposts, completely dark. The committee is worried that—"

"Now they want to hear what I have to say? They didn't believe me before!" Shepard scowled. "They know what this is. And we're not ready. Not by a long shot."

"Tell that to the committee." From the exhaustion in his voice, Shepard knew he was just as tired of it as she was and she grudgingly began following him again.

"Unless we want to talk the Reapers to death, the committee is a waste of time," she growled, sidestepping a clerk with no spatial awareness. The man didn't even look back, eyes fixed on the datapad in his hand and Shepard shook her head.

"They're just scared," Anderson replied, "Besides, none of them have seen what you've seen. You've faced down a Reaper, hell you even spoke to one, then blew the damn thing up! You've seen how they harvest us, what they plan to do to us. You know more about this enemy than anyone."

Shepard's brow furrowed and she tried to keep the acid out of her voice, but it was futile. "Is that why they grounded me? Took away my ship?" All this talk of how she was their only hope, how they needed her… No one had _cared_ what happened to her for months and now they wanted her to solve everything _again?_ It wasn't a question of whether or not she _would_—doubtless, she would—but the assumption still chaffed. And she still wasn't ready to forgive all of the doubt and suspicion they'd pointed her way.

Anderson stopped, grabbing her arm to stop her too. She could see the worry etched into the lines of his face as he frowned at her like a disappointed father. "You know that's not true," he said quietly. After a quick glance, he continued, "When you blew up the batarian relay, hundreds of thousands of batarians died."

"It was that or we let the Reapers walk right in our backdoor," Shepard retorted tightly. This was an argument she had raged with herself over and over and it always came down to the same thing: yes, she was a monster for letting it happen, but at least she had saved everyone else. The galaxy seemed so quick to forget all of the lives she had saved and the extra time she'd gotten them.

"I know that, Shepard, and so does the committee." She could tell he was trying to placate her and bit the inside of her cheek again. "If it wasn't for that, you'd have been court-martialed and left to rot in the brig!"

"That and your good word," she muttered sarcastically. She could see his eyes narrow, but made no move to apologize. She was done apologizing.

"Yeah, I trust you, Shepard. And so does the committee."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm just a soldier, Anderson. I'm no politician. I'm as alien to them as they are to me." She sighed a bit, pressing against her eyebrows in the hopes of warding off a headache. "No, they don't trust me, they just want me on a leash to keep me from doing any _more_ damage."

"Whatever they want you to be, I don't care," Anderson replied, starting off down the halls again, "I just need you to do whatever the hell it takes to help us stop the Reapers."

And she would. Whatever it took, whatever stood in the way, she _would_ stop the Reapers, that was a certainty. With a huff, she followed, nodding vaguely to the corpsman that greeted them and lead them toward the committee's meeting chamber.

"Shepard." She turned quickly, internally surprised that James had opted to follow, but smiled and took the offered hand. "Good luck."

Shepard shook her head. "Hold off on that, Lieutenant," she said quietly, "We're going to need it later." She was gone before he could say anything more, breezing past the man that greeted Anderson and then Shepard in turn. The dark-haired man's expression fell and James watched them go with a mix of consternation and worry.

"You knew the Commander?" he finally asked the man—a major, if he'd heard right.

"I used to," Kaidan replied with a rueful smile.

* * *

Shepard grit her teeth and scowled at the panel of men and women seated above her. "You brought me here to tell you what you already know," she growled, looking at each in turn, "The Reapers are here." For a moment, the only sound was the concerned murmurs of the committee and Shepard settled into her hip.

"Then, what should we do? How can we stop them?"

She scoffed without thinking, setting her hands on her hips. "Stop them? This isn't about strategy, or tactics. This is about _survival_. Now I need you to listen to me and—"

Alarms began sounding and everyone froze as an analyst stood from her desk. "We've lost contact with Luna Base."

"The moon…" Anderson's disbelieving whisper made the hair on the back of Shepard's neck rise. They were already so close? How?

"We need to evacuate, now! If they're on the moon, then—"

"Shepard, we appreciate your experience with the Reapers, but right now, what we need is a plan and—"

Shepard took a challenging step forward and pointed an accusing finger at the panel of men and women murmuring amongst themselves. "For once just shut up and listen to me! If you don't, millions could die and I am not going to sit back and let you doom us all!" When silence greeted her, she took a long breath and straightened. "We need to evacuate Earth, before it's too—"

The muted sunlight that had been lighting the open room went dim and Shepard looked up out the window that formed the wall behind the committee's platform as the insect-like form of a Reaper descended, landing amidst the skyscrapers like they were nothing. Her heart stopped and she started backing away as people cried out in confusion and fear. A flash of red and adrenaline shot through her system.

"Move!"

It happened faster than anyone could have seen. The Reaper fired and the window shattered, showering anyone left standing in shards of glass. People dove for cover and Shepard could see Anderson following her retreat from the corner of her eye. The lofted platform the late committee had so contentedly presided from flew across the room, turning end over end before slamming to the ground, taking with it those unfortunate enough to be in its way. Shepard scrambled up from where she had dropped to the floor and looked back toward the smoldering hole the Reaper had left in the building, in time to see a second laser fire. The shockwave threw her backward and pain blossomed where her head bounced off the wall. Something slowed her fall to the floor, but she was only dimly aware, waiting for her equilibrium to return before trying to stand.

"Shepard!"

Her eyes cracked open and she sat up with a groan, gently feeling the lump on the back of her head. A hand was held down to her and she looked up at Anderson, his uniform torn, and dirt and blood smudged across his face. She could feel the thin trails of blood from more than a dozen tiny scratches on her cheeks, hands, and arms. With a groan, she took the offered hand and let him haul her to her feet. A gun was shoved into her hand and she took it automatically.

"Come on, we've got to rendez-vous with the _Normandy_."

* * *

"What in the hell is _that_?" James stared at the towering behemoth of machinery as it trudged through the city, shouldering aside buildings like they were made of paper. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

"_That_," Kaidan said from behind him, "is a Reaper. Just like Sovereign… Shepard was right, it was only a matter of time."

"You're telling me…" James swallowed heavily, regripping the assault rifle balanced in his hands. Just a few minutes ago, they'd been laughing about some stupid screw up down in R&D that had left a few techs deaf on one side, but now… He'd never thought he'd see the end. And this looked so much like the end of days. His home, under attack by an unstoppable force... Why hadn't anyone listened to Shepard…

"Come on, the _Normandy_'s docked in the hangar next door. If we can get to her, maybe we can figure out what the hell to do." Kaidan's voice cut through his thoughts and James nodded automatically.

"Right… What about Shepard? And the Admiral?" he asked as they jogged through the carnage, sidestepping debris and smoldering carcasses of crashed ships.

"They were in the committee's chambers when the attack hit. I don't know if…" James could see the major's shoulders hunch forward. "We can't worry about that. Maybe we can get a message to Hackett from the _Normandy_ QEC. See if we can't find out what happened…"

James kept his mouth shut. It would be no use saying that he didn't think they stood a chance against these things without Shepard, no matter how true it felt in the pit of his gut. Kaidan wrenched a piece of metal sheeting free and tossed it aside, exposing an access shaft running the length of the building. The maintenance lights glowed red, bathing the narrow space in an eerie glow.

"Homey," James quipped dryly, but Kaidan ignored him, slipping inside without a word. With a huff, James followed, glancing back the way they'd come. How long could Earth hold out against an army like _this_?

The shaft ended and they staggered back out into the light in time to see an Alliance cruiser scream by, her stern aflame, before she crashed into the sea and sank. James stared in horror, but Kaidan just sighed, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Come on, Lieutenant."

James took off after him a few seconds late, still watching the place the cruiser had gone down. The water roiled and foamed as the wreck sank deeper and deeper, but nothing rose to the surface. Was that what a war with the Reapers would be like? Sudden, unexpected, and hopeless? Did they even stand a chance?

_Shepard does._

He shook his head, ducking into cover as the major did. "So. You knew the Commander?" he tried again.

"It was a long time ago." Kaidan didn't look at him, hopping over the fallen support beam that blocked their way.

"Still," James pressed, following at a respectful distance, "You must have seen this coming, being on her team."

Kaidan stopped suddenly and James nearly bumped into him, instead feigning interest in a scorch mark on the wall. "I don't know what I believed back then. I still don't. But I do know that we don't stand a chance against the Reapers if we run around on the ground. They'll crush us like ants. Come on, we—"

A flurry of motion ahead of them caught his attention and James tugged him back by the back of his shirt. Kaidan let out an indignant yell as he hit the ground, but James didn't hear, instead emptying a clip at the spot. The sound that came from the falling body wasn't human, nor synthetic and it made James shudder.

"You're welcome," he said casually, holding down a hand to help the major up.

"Right… Thanks."

Their progress became slow and cautious as they moved forward, checking every nook and cranny for hostiles. Kaidan had warned him about husks—abominations the Reapers made from captured or killed humans—and James wasn't sure he wanted anything like that jumping out at him. As they passed the creature James had shot, however, it became clear that husks weren't the only troops the Reapers made from their organic foes. Whatever it was, this thing was bigger, more advanced, and armed; a cannon replaced one of its hands and fleshy scales formed armor around large sections of its torso. Is this what the Reapers would do to the rest of the planet?

"Lieutenant, I think I found us a way to the hangars. If I can just—"

"Alenko, that you?" The voice over the comm sounded desperate.

"Joker! Yeah, it's me. I've got Lieutenant Vega here, we're on our way to you."

"Well, you better hurry! The automated guns have kept them off us for now, but if you want a working ship, we gotta get out of here, now!" Static blossomed over the line and James winced. "Any sign of—"

"Not yet. Have the _Normandy_ ready to fly, Joker."

"I—Yes sir."

James opened his mouth to say something—what, he wasn't sure—but closed it again when he caught sight of a blue uniform amongst the carnage. Everything else was burnt, blackened, and bloody, yet that scrap of blue… A glance told him that Alenko was fussing with something on his omnitool and James took the chance, cautiously approaching the pile concealing what he hoped was a survivor. With a grunt, he lifted a chunk of the ceiling that had fallen in and tossed it aside and… His breath caught and for a second he thought he would be sick. Private Marks… Stupid girl, she never would have seen this coming… He knelt, trying to brush some of the dirt and blood from her face, but it seemed to be no use.

"J… James?"

He started, recoiling as her head turned slowly to look at him. One side of her face was perfect, save for the splatters of blood covering it, yet the opposite was almost missing, skin and muscle torn free in a way that looked like it had been done by hand. Her eye hung from the socket, still staring at him and he felt bile rising in his throat.

"_Dios_…"

"James, help me." She lurched toward him, reaching with one hand and he jumped back, on his feet in a second with his gun raised. Sinuous metal tubing crawled up one of her legs, and circuitry seemed to glow beneath the skin of the hand she reached for him with. Blood dripped from her scalp and he could see where the flap of skin had torn almost completely away from her skull. "Help me!"

A gunshot rang out and her head snapped back before she crumbled back to the floor. James could only stare, hands shaking as Kaidan came up alongside him again. "It's hard to watch them turn, knowing they'll come after you." He paused for a second before laying a hand on the marine's shoulder. "You knew her?"

"Y-yeah… I guess. Not well, but…" He shook his head and swallowed. "That's how it happens?"

"Sometimes. The Reapers are technologically advanced, there's no telling what they can and can't do."

"Nightmare stuff."

"You don't know the half of it." Before James could reply, Kaidan had started away again. "Come on, I have a read on the _Normandy_, and the rest of the way seems clear enough."

James followed without hesitation this time, desperate to put more distance between himself and what he'd just seen. But that wouldn't stop his thoughts. Was it always going to be like this? Would things be different if they had listened to Shepard?

Where _was_ Shepard?

As they ducked around the last corner, the sleek curves of the _Normandy_ came into view and James let out an audible sigh of relief. Even the major cracked a smile as they trotted up the gangway.

"_Finally_, jeezus. Did ya take the scenic route, or something?" the pilot demanded over the intercom as the cargo bay doors closed.

"Minor inconveniences," Kaidan replied evenly, "How are the comms?"

James heard a snort and decided whoever this pilot was, he had to be alright; a sense of humor made everything better. "A mess. Distress signals everywhere. I had to turn it off to keep from going mad. I can't get a line to Admiral Hackett, but I'm getting some odd chatter planetside not far from where the committee was holding court."

James looked up in surprise, and it seemed the major had the same idea. "Shepard?"

"Maybe. I'll see if I can't boost it."

"Do it, Joker. I'm on my way up. Lieutenant, stay here."

With that, he was gone and James had no choice but to stare after him. "Yes… sir…"

* * *

A bullet ricocheted off the cement barrier that Shepard had taken cover behind and she hunched lower, letting the dust and rubble fall in her hair rather than in her eyes.

"Three o'clock!"

"Got him!" Two quick shots sent the fleshy mechanical… thing reeling and a third through its eye made it fall. The assault rifle she'd picked up had run out of ammo long ago and she was down to her last clip in the pistol. What she wouldn't give for her old rifle…

"I'm out!"

Shepard swore under her breath and stood from behind cover to bring down one of the creatures that had gotten too close.

"This is Admiral Anderson to the _Normandy_, is anyone there? We need immediate assistance, repeat! We need immediate assistance!"

Shepard could feel her hands beginning to shake as more and more of the synthetic-organic hybrids they'd been fighting fell from the sky. Six more bullets… And more than six of them… She swallowed and stood, lining up the shot. Bang. One fell. Bang. Another. A bullet grazed her arm and she inhaled sharply through her teeth, but didn't drop back behind the wall. Two more shots and two more fell. And yet as she lined up her next target, she could see that there were more bearing down on them than there had been when they'd first called for help. Was she going to die again? The last two shots went wide, only crippling one of the numerous creatures as she dropped down to her hiding place.

"I'm out," she forced out, covering the graze on her arm with one hand as bullets rained down around them. Anderson slid over so he was beside her and she managed a sideways smirk, ignoring the feeling of blood against her fingers. "Just a graze, sir."

"Always gotta be the hero, huh kid?"

"Yessir."

"You did good." He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "You did good."

"And the cavalry is here!" Violent winds blew in, startling their attackers and the two humans looked up as the frigate swooped in above them.

"_Joker?!_"

"Come on!" Anderson dragged her to her feet and shoved her toward where the ship was waiting, cargo bay hanging open. They ran, scrambling up the debris as the Reapers' troops fired after them. As she crested the top of the debris, Shepard could see familiar faces firing back down and almost laughed out of relief. She leapt across the gap and Kaidan grabbed her arm to steady her.

"Thanks."

Yet Anderson stopped on the edge, looking back at the destruction of their home.

"Come on!"

The older man shook his head. "I have to stay."

Shepard stared, dumbfounded. "We need you!" _I need you_.

"They need me here. These people are going to need a leader, you know that!" When Shepard said nothing, he sighed. "Talk to the Council, see if you can't convince them to help us!"

"I don't take orders from you, remember?" Shepard replied, but the defiance was gone. It was childish, to try to refuse and make him escape with them, but she didn't like the thought of the only person she had ever considered close to a parent staying behind and flirting with death.

Anderson smiled, digging something out of his pocket. "Consider yourself reinstated. Commander," he replied as he threw whatever he had found across the gap. Shepard caught it in one hand, looking down to find her dogtags. Damn him.

"You better stay alive, sir," she replied, swallowing past the lump in her throat. _Don't let this be the last time I see you alive._ "I'll get the Council to help us, and I'll bring the whole galactic fleet!"

"I know you will," the admiral said with a nod, a sad smile pulling at his lip. A shuttle of soldiers began its descent not far behind him and he watched as they began setting up a perimeter. "Now go!"

Before she could refuse, the _Normandy_ was airborne again, the cargo bay closing as they turned to make their retreat. As the rest left, Shepard remained, staring at the doors with her dogtags held tight in one fist.

"Where are we going?"

James. Not now. Shepard tried to ignore him, stomping toward the armor lockers with the intention of abandoning her weapons.

"Why are we leaving Earth?"

She forced her eyes shut for a moment before hastily opening the comm console, searching for any clues as to what should happen next.

"Hey!"

She huffed out a breath, but didn't turn to look at the young Lieutenant. "We're leaving."

"Bullshit, we can't just leave! What about Anderson? What about _Earth_?! You better drop me off, 'cause I'm not—"

"Enough!" Shepard turned then, glowering at him as she stalked across the small space. "Don't you think I'd rather stay and fight?!" It was _her_ fight. The Reapers were _her_ battle. And she wanted nothing more than to stay and give them what for, but that wouldn't help anyone. She hated admitting it, but Anderson was right: they needed help. "But there's nothing we can do on our own. Once we get the Council's help, we can help Earth."

James glared back down at her for a moment before stalking away without another word. He knew better than to think she didn't care—he knew _exactly_ how much she _did_ care—but he couldn't help it. He hated the idea of leaving his home while it was still under attack. It felt too much like running… Too much like failure…

Shepard watched him go, visibly deflating, and sighed. She was glad he had made it—she wasn't sure who was staffing her ship, and it was nice to know she could trust _someone_—but it didn't change the fact that he was right. She wanted to stay and fight, but she knew she couldn't. Didn't make it hurt any less.

"Hey Commander, long time no see."

She looked up at the intercom. "Joker, that you?" she asked, a smile pulling at her lip.

"Alive and kicking. Message coming in from Admiral Hackett, it's flagged as urgent."

There'd be time to catch up later. "Patch it through."

* * *

**Let me know what you think!**


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